


Like a Tidal Wave Against the Rocks

by TCRegan



Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Awakening, the Grey Wardens stop in Denerim for a bit. Anders finds a way to pass the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Tidal Wave Against the Rocks

"Bad day?"

Anders should have known better than to provoke the king of all people. But he was bored. Being a Grey Warden, traveling, seeing Ferelden from a different point of view – that was, not being chased and hunted by templars – it was sort of exciting. He could walk around without fear of being clapped in irons and dragged back to the tower. It gave him a certain naughty thrill to skip past a chantry building, waving at templars, knowing they couldn't do anything to him because he was a Grey Warden. Tainted blood and nightmares aside, it wasn't such a bad life. Until they made a stop in Denerim.

Being a former Grey Warden himself, the king insisted that their company stay within the walls of castle for the duration of their stay. It had been four days now, and Anders was growing restless. Aside from the tower and then Vigil's Keep, he really didn't have a place to call home, and thus it stood to reason, never had a place he stayed in for long. After thoroughly exploring the castle, flirting with every servant he met, eating his fill of heavy stews and delicious cakes, Anders was bored. So were his fellows, and there'd been talk about why the Warden-Commander hadn't moved on yet from this. Not that they had pressing business elsewhere, but at least at the Vigil they would be in their own beds.

Alistair looked up, raising a massive forearm to wipe away the sweat from his brow. He was shirtless, dressed only in cotton pants, light leather tassets, and boots. Anders wondered if it was sacrilegious to look upon the king with open lust. But, he reasoned, he must not be the only one. The man was… broad. Anders did love broad. Rumors of Alistair's prowess with a sword didn't do him justice though, and watching him now for twenty minutes in the baking heat of the midday sun had left Anders hot in more ways than one.

He pushed himself off the railing he'd been perched upon, dropping the fifteen feet to the ground, landing expertly. Several escape attempts from Kinloch Hold had skilled him with almost rogue-like grace when it came to falling from heights. Alistair turned fully to him, breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his chest. The finest dusting of hair decorated his pectorals, a line of darker hair leading from his navel down… Anders licked his lips, wanting to follow that trail with his mouth.

It would be his greatest accomplishment to date to bed a king.

"You're… Anders, right?" Alistair asked, plucking his shirt from the ground. He wiped away the sweat.

_More's the pity_ , Anders thought. "I'm honored you remembered, Your Majesty."

Alistair seemed to bristle at the honorific. It had only been a few months since the coronation, Anders reasoned. Perhaps he still wasn't used to be addressed as such. The nobles at court whispered when they didn't think any outsiders were listening. Alistair was an odd duck, they would say. Did he even have noble blood in him? Was he really Maric's bastard son? From what he gathered, Alistair had been raised as a templar, hated it, conscripted into the Grey Wardens, then thrown to the wolves shortly after when Ostagar fell. The following year, he and his fellow surviving Warden gathered support and managed to defeat an archdemon.

There was a statue outside in the square to commemorate the sacrifice of the Dalish elf – the hero of Ferelden - who slew it, and subsequently died because of it. Anders could only imagine the fight that took place. Denerim was still in the process of being rebuilt, but Alistair insisted on staying there, holding court in the capital instead of elsewhere.

"I find it best to remember the names of the people who might be saving the world someday."

Anders chuckled. "Who? Me? I think you're overestimating my abilities."

"Nah," Alistair said, gesturing toward the door to the armory.

Anders followed.

"I mean look at me. Chantry boy, son of a serving girl, then bam! King."

He chuckled in a way Anders found extremely endearing. Nervous, almost, as if he was tentative about giving himself any kind of praise. Anders watched him wipe down the blade and replace it on the rack. Alistair struck him as less a king and more a general. He would've done well in Cailan's service, like a proper younger brother. But that time had passed and he was king now. And what a king.

Anders approached slowly, cat-like. The armory was empty, not even a guard on duty. It was time he made his move. A nervous anticipation tingled through him, alighting every nerve as Alistair raised a confused eyebrow.

"Did you want to spar? Or something? Do mages spar? I suppose I could still keep up, though it's been awhile since I had to use any of my templar abilities. Then again that's not exactly fair, is it?" Alistair said, head cocking to the side. "I mean, what good is a mage in a fight if he can't use a fireball or two?" He laughed again, and Anders smiled.

He was now in Alistair's personal space, having backed him up against the stone. Alistair could easily snap him in half like a twig, templar abilities or not. He was nervous, chest still heaving from the exertion of earlier exercise. He smelled of dirt, leather, sweat, and the oil used to polish armor. Anders was sure the lust he felt was apparent on his face. Had Alistair been a sweet serving girl or an eager squire, he might have taken a gentler hand. But the king was notoriously innocent when it came to sex. There were even rumors that he was still a virgin.

To take the king's virginity? Anders found the idea delicious.

"Um," Alistair managed.

Anders placed a hand on his shoulder, letting his thumb brush over the wide collar bone. "I just wanted to thank you, your Majesty," he said in a heady tone. "For your hospitality toward the Grey Wardens."

Alistair's eyes flicked from Anders' hand to his face. It was unusual for Anders to be looking up at someone, being rather tall and slim. Everything about Alistair radiated power though, from his height to his… girth. Anders knew such things were proportionate, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to drop between Alistair's legs and suck him off right there in the armory. His own groin tightened at the fantasy. But no. He needed to plant the seed first.

He let his hand fall, fingertips trailing down, stopping right before they brushed a nipple. But he achieved the effect, the small dark nub hardening despite the lack of touch. Alistiar let out a breath, and Anders counted it a victory.

"Uh. Of, of course," Alistair stammered, clearing his throat. "My home is your home as they say. Any Grey Warden… Er..."

Anders wondered if someone wrote his speeches for him. He certainly wasn't the most eloquent king to have ever ruled Ferelden.

"I'll see you at supper, Your Majesty."

And Anders turned, smirking as he felt Alistair's eyes watching him go.

-

Dinner was a fun affair. Anders made sure he sat in full view of Alistair, smiling gently as the king sat at the head of the table. Alistair blushed slightly.

_Excellent,_ Anders thought, running his fingers through his hair. He'd left it loose that night in order to use it for full effect. Seduction was an art, one he'd learned early and fine-tuned during the boring nights in the tower. Jowan had been his first victim, but Karl was his first real challenge. Alistair… he would be his greatest victory.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked a voice to his right.

Anders turned smoothly, looking at his casual lover through half-lidded eyes. "Jealous, Nate? It's not like you."

"I know that look. I know about this," he said, tugging on a strand of Anders' hair.

Of course he did. The same techniques had worked quite well on Nathaniel. They both agreed from the off that neither was looking to be tied down, and proved a welcome distraction to the other when nights at the Vigil were dull and cold.

"Then why ask me what I'm doing, my friend, if you already know?"

"The king?" Nathaniel's voice was heavy with disbelief.

Anders winked and turned back to the conversation at the end of the table. The Warden-Commander was speaking with Alistair about a new expedition, another trek to the Deep Roads. Anders pushed that thought from his mind and instead began to make use of his fork, licking the tines as he ate.

"Maker's breath," Nate huffed next to him.

Anders grinned wickedly. "Might not want to watch."

It was easy to get Alistair's attention and even easier to tease him. More than once the Warden-Commander had to stop to make sure Alistair was paying attention. The evening culminated with Alistair reaching for his wine glass, missing, and spilling it across the tablecloth.

"Are you feeling all right, Your Majesty?" This from Bann Teagan on Alistair's left.

Alistair mopped at the stain. "I think so. I mean, yes, I am. Thank you, uncle. Though I think I should just… I'm not very hungry." He stood, frowning as the others around the table did as well – a custom he apparently hadn't gotten used to yet. "At ease. I'll… excuse me. Enjoy your meal."

"Well now you've done it," Nate muttered, swirling his own wine glass as he resumed his seat.

"He was twitchy to begin with," Anders admitted, leaning back in his chair to watch Alistair's backside as the king took his leave. "Do you know there's a rumor that he's never fucked before?"

"Well, it's not surprising. I can't imagine you get a lot of opportunity growing up how he did."

Anders tutted, letting his chair fall back to the floor with a clatter. "Among the repressed sisters and brothers? One would think it was the most opportune situation."

Nate shook his head, exasperated. "Is nothing sacred to you?"

"We'll see," he said, draining his wine glass and standing. He walked to the end of the table, touching the Warden-Commander's shoulder. "I think I'll check on the king. If he's not feeling well, he might need a healer."

"At your leisure."

_Oh yes,_ Anders thought. _Definitely at my leisure._

-

He nodded to the soldiers patrolling the halls who returned the nod. The Grey Wardens had been given all but free reign of the castle and it was liberating for Anders, who nearly always had to watch his back. He knocked softly on the king's door and peeked inside. The main room was little more than a sitting area with a desk. Paperwork piled high and almost spilling over, clearly neglected. He moved further in, opening the next door only a crack. A large four-poster bed with a huge fireplace. On the hearthrug, a wicked looking mabari hound curled, snoring.

He slipped inside and the dog looked up, sniffed, growled quietly. Anders paused. Being ripped to shreds would put a damper on his seduction. The dog stood up, looked in his direction, sniffed again, then turned twice before lying back down. Anders let out a breath. Apparently he wasn't a threat. Good. Damn dogs, Ferelden was full of them. Why could wild packs of feral housecats roam the country? Steeling himself, he moved further into the room. A dim light filtered out from the last door. A bathing chamber, and from inside he heard Alistair's deep voice singing a raunchy song. Anders smirked, knocking, and opened the door wide.

The effect was perfect. Alistair startled, sitting upright in the tub, sloshing water over the side. He started to reach for a dagger, still sheathed, sitting on a chair beside him. Recognition flitted over his face and he relaxed, but only slightly.

"Anders?"

"Your Majesty. My apologies, I was sent by my commander to make sure you were feeling all right." He stepped inside, shutting the door. "I'm the resident healer, so…"

"Oh. Well," Alistair said, a blush rising from his cheeks to his hairline. "I'm fine. Thank your commander for the concern, but…"

"You don't seem fine," Anders said, stepping into the room, relishing the way Alistair scrambled back a bit, but couldn't escape.

"Just tired. Long days, you know. Of being a king."

"I can't even imagine." Anders took up the fallen washcloth. "If I may?"

"Uh…"

He didn't let Alistair protest, instead, dipped the cloth in the water and lathered it with soap, kneeling behind him. Gently he ran the cloth over Alistair's shoulders. He was tense but Anders continued, breathing a bit of magic into the motion to help him relax. He rolled up the sleeves of his tunic, placing his palm flat against a taut shoulder muscle. A light blue glow sank from his hand into Alistair's skin and he felt the king shudder.

"That's…"

"Lean forward, Your Majesty."

The water sloshed a bit, and Alistair sat up, then leaned forward, bringing his knees up to his chest. Anders shifted, lathering the broad back before letting the washcloth drop. He began kneading the knotted muscles, using a whisper of magic to aid him as he continued.

"Oh." It was a shaky, breathy sound. Alistair's forehead dropped to his knees.

Anders grinned. He had him. He continued to massage, working the kinks out, wondering if the king had ever had this done to him. Perhaps in the barracks. All that unresolved, homoerotic sexual tension. Templars massaging each other, swearing up and down that it was purely for training purposes when all they really desired to do was to surrender to one another's hands and mouths. The thought of well-muscled, oiled men – templars or not – brought Anders' cock to attention. The quiet moans from Alistair indicated he was likely in a similar state.

"Feeling better?" Anders whispered against his ear.

"Mm. Yes, that's… that's quite nice."

"I'm glad you think so, Your Majesty."

Alistair groaned as Anders hit a particularly sore spot. "Just… Alistair, please," he gasped.

Anders worked the muscle, evoking another groan of pleasure-pain. "Alistair."

Anders moved onto his feet again, leaning down, pulling Alistair back against the tub. Through the slightly soapy water, he could see that Alistair was, in fact, fully erect. And impressive as hell. He thought about being in Alistair's lap, riding him hard. To the void with slow seduction. He leaned down further and licked the shell of Alistair's ear.

"Wha-?"

Alistair turned to look at him and Anders kissed him full on the mouth, tongue parting surprised lips, pressing against Alistair's own. There was a moment of panic, hesitation. Alistair's nails dug into the sides of the tub, his entire body seized up. Anders pulled back.

"Let me take care of you, Alistair," he whispered against his lips before kissing them again, gently. "I'll make you forget being a king just for a night." He brought his hand up to Alistair's cheek, thumb brushing against the stubble along his jaw until it touched his lower lip. "No one will know."

Alistair gaped for a moment, looking like a fish out of water as he tried to remember how to speak. Anders dropped his hand from his face, down his chest, fingertips trailing southward, into the water until he very gently gripped Alistair's cock. The effect was immediate; Alistair's head fell back to the tub, groaning, hips thrusting up invitingly, a blush spreading over his whole body as he shuddered. Anders admired the way his abdominal muscles tightened, how his toes curled. He stroked, and Alistair whimpered.

There would be time still, Anders reasoned. There was no rule saying the king could only climax once, after all. And Grey Warden stamina could keep them going all night. He had tested that theory with Nathaniel just weeks ago. So he stroked, changing his grip so he could move faster, Alistair panting now, eyes shut as he thrust his hips up into Anders' hand. Anders brushed the sweaty hair back from his forehead, placing soft kisses there and over his face.

Alistair was quiet when he came, thrusting twice, quivering, before splashing back into the tub. Anders' clothing was soaked now, but he didn't care. In a few minutes he would be out of them. Alistair opened his eyes, breathing hard, and looked away, almost bashful. Anders would've found it endearing had he not just stroked him to completion. Maker, this man blushed more than the Chantry sister he'd taken last week in the pews.

"All right, Your- Alistair?" he asked.

"Mm."

Anders started to strip.

"What… what are you doing?"

"My clothes are wet."

"Oh." A beat, then, "Sorry."

Anders grinned. "It's all right. I'll just hang them to dry." And he did, draping them over a chair until he stood naked in front of Alistair, who hadn't yet left the safety of his bath.

Alistair's eyes slid over his body, stopping on his groin. Anders wasn't as large as he was, nor as thick, but he knew the thoughts going through Alistair's mind were less than pure. He walked over, one hand reaching out, gently threading through Alistair's hair.

"Never sucked a cock before?"

"N-no."

"Tonight's the night to try."

"I uh…"

"The water's getting cold," Anders said, reaching down, taking his hand. He guided Alistair to his feet, and the king came willingly, stepping out carefully. Anders had to lean up, hand around Alistair's neck to pull him down for a kiss.

A victorious voice cheered in his head as Alistair's hands wrapped around his waist. Large, calloused hands they were at the small of his back. He wrapped his own around Alistair's neck, pressing their hips together, moaning. Alistair was already getting hard again.

"The bedroom?" Anders suggested.

He led Alistair through, walking backward, keeping his eyes fixed upon the king's face. Alistair looked scared, nervous. His inexperience rang clearly.

"I promise we won't do anything you don't want to," Anders said, pushing him to sit on the bed. He straddled him, hand on his chest to push him back.

Alistair went willingly, hands on his hips. "I just… I never thought…"

Anders leaned over him, hair brushing Alistair's chest as he placed his kisses everywhere, then down his midline, tongue dipping into his navel. "Never thought you'd want to fuck a man? It's a liberating revelation when you realize it's not about what's between a person's legs. Well," he added with a smirk, eyes flicking to Alistair's cock. Alistair blushed again. "But rather, it's simply about desire." He kissed a thigh. "And want." He kissed the other.

Alistair shifted back until they were both fully on the bed, Anders kneeling now between his thighs. He reached up with a shaking hand to brush Anders' hair back.

"Just watch," Anders instructed. 

He teased, licking the droplets of water from Alistair's thighs, gently pressing his cock aside as he took Alistair's sac into his mouth, tonguing his balls. Alistair's breath came out in a rush.

"Maker's breath," he whimpered, legs spreading. His knees came up, back arching a bit.

Anders sucked harder, tongue scrubbing slowly, getting such a thrill at the noises Alistair was making above him. He pulled back, lowering his head further, licking just below his balls, tongue pressing against the tight entrance. Alistair sprang back, a string of curses flying from his lips. His head hit the headboard, and Anders couldn't help but laugh.

"What…" But that was all that Alistair could manage.

"Maybe not, then," Anders said with a wicked grin. "Maybe… on another night." He slowly moved up, kissing Alistair's stomach.

The bed dipped, and quite suddenly he felt something cold and wet and definitely not Alistair pressing against his thigh. He jumped and looked. The mabari had gotten up from his rug, paws on the bed, panting. Lovely, just what he needed to ruin the mood. But Alistair was already reacting. He snapped his fingers twice, sharply, pointing to the rug. The dog whined but went, and Anders hoped they could continue. He looked at Alistair, eyebrow raised.

"It's… sorry. He usually sleeps in the bed."

"Charming."

Anders moved up for another kiss, pleased when Alistair participated this time. He didn't press further, settling in Alistair's arms, letting him set the pace. He liked this feeling, this unfamiliar comfort. Nathaniel was just about his size and while it was nice to have a bed partner, Anders found he preferred being held to holding. Alistair, inexperienced as he was, seemed to fall easily into the role of protector. Not that Anders needed protecting in or out of bed. And then they were rolling over, Alistair pushing him back to the mattress, kissing him so deeply that Anders was sure he would suffocate and die from it. But Maker, what a way to go.

Alistair tentatively brought his hips down, and Anders was trapped under his bulk. It was oppressive and terrifying, but still nice. His arms were still free, he was still able to cast if he needed to. He wasn't a prisoner. It was rather like having his own golem-sized blanket. He laughed at the thought and Alistair pulled back.

"What? Is it wrong?"

"It's perfect," Anders said. "Are you going to fuck me?"

Alistair frowned. "I don't… How?"

Anders took Alistair's hand and brought it down his own body, arching into the touch. He grinned as Alistair's fingertips brushed his cock, legs spreading, he pressed one of Alistair's fingers to his hole. "There."

"Oh!"

Maker, he was so innocent. He probably hadn't thought of sex beyond missionary position, and Anders suddenly found himself wishing they could stay in Denerim for a month so he could teach Alistair all the wonderful things one could do with a bed partner. Alistair rubbed slowly, making a crooked 'come hither' motion with his finger. Anders whispered a spell, a slickness spreading from his own fingers to help aid with the friction.

"Go ahead," he encouraged Alistair. "Slow."

Anders relaxed, arching his back as Alistair started to slide a finger inside him. He reached up, hands on Alistair's shoulders, gripping. Alistair looked down at him with tender, soft eyes that reminded him horribly of Karl. Of his own first time where his teacher whispered to him, asking him if he was all right, making sure he wasn't hurting him.

"Talk to me," Anders pleaded.

Alistair frowned a bit, working his finger inside, and Anders dropped his hand to whisper the spell once more.

"I never thought I'd be here," Alistair said, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Any of it."

He pressed another finger inside, and Anders realized the carefully planned quick and dirty seduction was falling to hell. He didn't care, trying to relax as Alistair worked his thick, blunt fingers inside him. He wrapped his arms around Alistair's neck, holding tightly.

"Never thought I'd be king. Never thought… never thought I'd lose Duncan. Cailan."

There was something terribly dirty and horribly erotic the way Alistair spoke about his lost loved ones while thrusting his fingers in and out of Anders, stretching him. Anders pulled himself up, Alistair's free hand supporting his back as he placed gentle kisses along his cheek.

"All the… fighting. Everything that brought me here. It was for a reason, but never in a million years."

"Please," Anders found himself whispering. "Do it now."

He wrapped his legs around Alistair's waist, hanging from the larger man. Alistair pressed him down into the mattress, removing his fingers. Anders mourned the loss, feeling oddly empty now before Alistair pressed the tip of his erection to his hole. He took a breath, one last addition of more lubricant, and winced as Alistair slowly moved forward.

He'd had others before, others as big as Alistair. Their lovemaking had always been hurried, rushed. This was far more intimate than anything he'd experienced, except for perhaps his own first time. He wondered briefly if he'd been wrong to claim Alistair's virginity, and decided that, as Alistair's cock slid into him, it was too late for regrets now. Buried to the hilt, Alistair took a moment, breath hitching and Anders prayed to Andraste that the man wasn't crying. He couldn't handle that.

"Maker's breath, you feel…"

Anders tightened around him and Alistair cried out. "Feel what?" Anders asked, hooking his ankles around Alistair's back.

"Fuck."

"Yes, let's."

Alistair moved slowly at first. The mattress beneath them creaked as he pressed Anders into it. Fingernails dug into tanned skin as Anders tried to hold on. He felt Alistair's lips, soft and warm against his bared neck, kissing down to his collar bone before biting softly. His own prick twitched against his stomach, and a large hand moved between them, stroking opposite Alistair's thrusts.

"Oh fucking… fuck the Maker," Anders hissed. His hands dropped from Alistair's neck and he gripped the sheets. His heels dug into Alistair's back. "Faster."

Alistair listened, and there were no more coherent words between the two of them. He angled deeper, Anders back bending like a bow, resting now on his shoulders as Alistair pumped his hips faster. Anders tried to open his eyes, catching glimpses of the room and Alistair's face, lips parted, panting softly. He knew Alistair was close when he sped up once again, his thrusts becoming shorter, brutal now. The hand on Anders' cock slowed, then stopped.

"Ah! Ah, Maker… Andraste have mercy! Fuck… Anders…" Alistair came, Anders squirming as he felt the king spend inside him.

He should have warned him about that. Alistair had settled down over top of him and Anders pressed uselessly at the massive chest. He wriggled. It took Alistair only a moment, but he shifted, reaching down, and stroked Anders quickly. It wasn't exactly what he'd expected, but Anders was in no position to complain. He couldn't thrust his hips, pinned as he was, and instead gave himself to the feeling of Alistair's hand on his cock. Hands still slippery from the lubrication spell, fingers delicate and strong, Anders praised Andraste for seasoned warriors. He came, crying out against Alistair's neck before biting down.

"Ah!"

"Sorry."

Alistair laughed. "It's… it's okay."

Anders pushed at his chest feebly once more and Alistair rolled to his side. Sweaty and sticky, but too tired to move, Anders simply lay there panting, legs feeling like jelly. He'd wanted a quick tumble in the sheets, but this was more than that now. They'd shared something intimate. Alistair it seemed, felt the same way, head moving to rest on Anders' shoulder. It was funny; Anders never imagined him the cuddling type. More the type to fuck you, then roll over and snore. Wonders never ceased with the king of Ferelden.

Heh. He'd just slept with the king of Ferelden. Funny how it didn't feel like a simple notch on a bedpost to him.

"Alistair."

"Mmfph."

Alistair had been halfway to sleep. Anders reached up, running a hand through his still damp hair. "Never mind."

Alistair shifted and pulled the blankets up over them, face still buried in Anders' shoulder. He wrapped around him, arm heavy and warm around Anders' middle. A few minutes later, and he was snoring lightly. Anders let out a soft laugh that might have been a sob.

_Ah, well,_ he thought. _We could all be dead tomorrow, couldn't we?_ He pressed a kiss to Alistair's forehead, and tried to sleep.

-

Years later, Anders never thought he'd see Alistair again. He was a fugitive, running from both the Circle and from the Wardens. He tensed, standing behind Hawke, hoping not to be noticed as they traded jests. Alistair's eyes moved from Hawke to him, and a flash of recognition passed over his face. The events of that evening came to them both, crashing into their memories like a tidal wave against the rocks.

"Anders?"

"Your Majesty."

Alistair's lips twitched. He frowned. "It's… been awhile."

"A few years."

Hawke glanced from Alistair to Anders, then back again. "I didn't realize you two knew one another," he said.

"The Wardens stayed briefly in Denerim awhile back. When I was a part of the Order," Anders offered.

"Your Majesty, we should really get going," Teagan said.

Alistair's frown deepened, but he nodded. "You're right, of course. Champion," he said, saluting Hawke Fereldan-style, arms crossed over his chest.

Hawke, pleased, returned the salute and watched the king leave the hall. He turned to Anders. "Mind explaining that?"

Anders shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Later. I promise."

Or maybe not at all. Despite his newfound relationship with Hawke, his brief affair with Alistair was something he didn't want to revisit. Those feelings, he knew, were best left buried deep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to delazeur who encouraged me to post this here. Apparently we're both big Anders/Alistair fans. ^_^


End file.
